Is everything we pile on
really going to pay off? When we put it
to ultimate test? In the mouth
of an innocent wish, unspoken
For bliss, but already so full
of a gnawing regret. Should I even
have taken a picture of this?
Now everyone's seen what cannot
be unmade, but only consumed
by grief. Oh bless us, oh lord,
for this,
was not what I need.
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